


Just You

by kathkin



Series: Yes, Jamie, it is a big one! [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Kilts, M/M, Smut, kilt kink, with a side of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“You’re a dirty old man with a fetish for boys in kilts.” / “Who said anything about boys? Just you.”</i> In which the Doctor has a fetish and Jamie is amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just You

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](http://sizeofthatthing.livejournal.com/3359.html?thread=3997471#t3997471) sizeofthatthing prompt: _Kilt kink. Sexy times, either of them can top (though I'd prefer Two) but the kilt stays on._

“Actually, would you mind awfully leaving it on?”

Jamie’s hand stilled upon his kilt pin. He squinted up at the Doctor. He was using his meekest, most bashful tone – Jamie would call it innocent, except it was hard to call anything the Doctor did _innocent_ when not two minutes ago he’d had Jamie’s hands down his trousers – and as it often did, that tone made Jamie inclined to be contrary.

“Oh, aye?” he said. “And why should I do that, then?”

The Doctor scratched his ear. “It’s just that – well, I’d rather like you to.”

“Ohhh.” Jamie withdrew his hand from his kilt pin and ran it instead down the Doctor’s chest. “I see how it is. You like the kilt, eh?”

“I just happen to find it rather fetching,” said the Doctor. His hands fluttered ineffectually down Jamie’s sides and settled upon his hips.

“You _like_ it.” Jamie tugged upon the open collar of the Doctor’s shirt, revealing a strip of untouched skin. “You’ve a fetish for it. Pervert.” He pressed his mouth greedily to the newly bared skin of the Doctor’s shoulder.

“I am _not_ a p-pervert,” said the Doctor, a statement somewhat belied by the way his breath hitched when Jamie’s tongue ran down his shoulder blade.

“Are so,” said Jamie. “Don’t think I’ve not seen you ogling me legs.”

“I do not _ogle_ ,” said the Doctor tartly. His hands shifted from Jamie’s hips to his calves, where they slid up and down, caressing. “I may sometimes – do a spot of admiring.” 

“Oh, aye,” said Jamie. The Doctor’s hands slipped up – up under his kilt, exploring the skin of his thighs. “You admire all you want, you dirty old man.”

“Old?” the Doctor snapped. One hand withdrew reluctantly from beneath Jamie’s kilt and groped about on the nightstand. “Why, how dare you. I am not _old_.”

“You’re four and a half centuries.” Jamie’s breath turned to gasps as the Doctor worked a finger up into him.

“Which I’ll have you know is very spry for one of my people,” said the Doctor. “Really. _Old_. Good gracious.”

“Spry or not, you’re a dirty old man,” said Jamie, squirming on the Doctor’s fingers.

The Doctor clucked his tongue. “Say that again and I’ll –”

“And ye’ll what?” Jamie said. “Pervert.”

“Right, that’s it,” said the Doctor. “Over you go.” With that, he took Jamie by the waist and bundled him over, shoving him face down into the mattress and climbing atop him quicker than he could say Loch Lomond.

Jamie yelped as he was manhandled. The Doctor was – stronger than he looked. Not that Jamie minded. He’d got to like being manhandled about. He braced himself, spreading his legs wider.

The Doctor took two handfuls of tartan and hiked his kilt up – and then, without so much as a by-your-leave, he thrust forward, fucking into Jamie roughly, mercilessly. Jamie pressed his face into the blankets to stifle a groan.

“Still feel like being cheeky?” said the Doctor, voice wobbling.

Jamie took a breath, and went on. “You’re a dirty old man,” he said, “with a fetish for boys in kilts.”

“Who said anything about boys?” The Doctor began to move, hips jerking back and forth in slow, deep thrusts. “Just – just you.”

“Mmm.” Jamie rested his head upon his forearms and tried to breathe. “A little more – aye, right there. Right – _mmm_.”

“And if you’re going to wear it in the – ah – traditional manner,” the Doctor babbled on, “you only have yourself to blame if I happen to – get a little – oh, my.” His thrusts growing ragged, his grip on Jamie’s kilt tightened, yanking hard, tugging it right out of shape – and he stilled. “ _Jamie_.”

Jamie sighed and shifted as the Doctor slid out of him with a soft moan of satisfaction. “Hmm,” said Jamie, stretching out his back. “You really got off on that, eh?”

“And why shouldn’t I?” The Doctor was making a half-hearted effort to straighten Jamie’s kilt. Jamie shrugged him off and rolled over. He unfastened the pin and wriggled out of his kilt, ignoring the Doctor’s disappointed noises. “You couldn’t leave it on a while longer?”

“Och, you all but pulled it off,” said Jamie. He reached down, stroking himself. “Am I getting mine, then?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Doctor as if he’d all but forgotten about it. “Right away,” he said as he bent his head to the task.

Jamie closed his eyes and fisted a hand in the Doctor’s unruly hair. “And you’re a damn pervert,” he said while the Doctor’s mouth was busy. The Doctor moaned around him as if in agreement, and Jamie tipped his head back, back against the pillows, and came.

The Doctor was nuzzling him, lips nudging the corner of his mouth. Jamie turned his head, twisted his fingers in the Doctor’s hair and kissed him savagely, licking into the Doctor’s mouth, chasing the taste of himself.

“Mm. Pervert,” said the Doctor fondly, breath ghosting Jamie’s lips.

“You’re washing me kilt,” said Jamie, voice rough.

“Gladly,” said the Doctor, fingering crumpled tartan fabric. With a contented sigh, he rested his head on Jamie’s bared chest. “After I’ve rested my eyes.”

“Aye, you have a wee sleep.” Jamie stroked his hair. “Since you’re an old man and all.”

“I shall pretend I didn’t hear that,” said the Doctor.


End file.
